FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"No faggots in my chat," Mark typed furiously.

He clicked post and smiled, secure in the knowledge that his comment had helped save his stream chat from all-out homosexual invasion. If he wanted to rant about the gay agenda while mowing down hoards of faceless, nameless enemies, that was his prerogative! If the queers had anything to say about it, they could keep it to themselves. Anything else, the 26 year old streamer figured, was just SJW nonsense.

The post made, he went back to the game for a few minutes, watching the chat move sluggishly by. His comment seemed to have gone unnoticed, until a single sentence popped up in the chat box.

"No," The anonymous message said, "You're the faggot."

Attached, was a picture of a muscular cheetah, clad in leather gear usually restricted to Judas Priest concerts. Mark's eye twitched at the desecration of the legendary symbol of heterosexuality, and even moreso when he noticed the growing number of likes on the comment. Rage grew within him, building in his throat. Clenching his jaw, he began typing a reply, only to pause as a strange feeling came over him.

A low groan, almost a growl escaped his throat as he sat there, staring vaguely into space. It was the strangest thing, as if he was too small for his own skin - But at four hundred pounds of hot pocket gorging, Mountain Dew swilling, taco grease sweating flesh, there should have been more than enough room. Huffing, he began unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his flabby manboobs, and the hairy gut below. As he looked down, he couldn't help but notice something odd. Was his belly... Smaller than usual?

He blinked, grabbing his love handles in both hands and giving them a solid shake, sending his flab into motion like a sea of jello. It did seem smaller; If anything, it seemed to shrink down slightly with every jiggle. He snorted, leaning back to his keyboard to type a reply before the chat passed it by. He groaned, rolling his shoulders. For some reason, the sleeves of his shift seemed oddly tight.

But what to say? The words were on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn't quite seem to get them out. He wracked his mind trying to think of something, but to no avail. Mark leaned back in his seat, gazing at the screen from behind the soft curvature of his belly. Yet, where he expected to find his enormous, gamer grub-fueled gut, there was nothing but empty air. His eyes widened, and he looked down; His stomach had retreated dramatically, now nothing more than a layer of chub on his hairy midsection. Perhaps hairy was the wrong word - The unkempt treasure trail had spread out across his midsection, a soft yellow, with small circles still in the original black color.

He could feel his body changing, his stomach shrinking, his sleeves tightening as his bingo wings turned to biceps. His moobs, once saggy and soft, were now hard as a rock, nipples standing erect in the cool air as fur began to creep across them. The smell in the room began to change as well - The stench of BO shifted from the acrid stench of unwashed flab, to a softer, richer smell, born of sweat and sex. Mark let out a moan as the smell invaded his nose, ensconcing his brain in a warm haze.

His arms fell slack at the keys, eyelids lowering as the changes slowed down, taking a quieter, subtler route. His shirt and pants began to shimmer, the cheap fabric taking a smooth, shiny texture, the buttons turning into studs as they changed shape into bondage straps. The fedora on his head melted down, becoming a leather officer's cap, decorated with a badge of two Mars symbols intertwined.

The human's mouth and nose began to stretch, an almost purring moan coming out as they turned into a snout. His neckbeard simply shrunk down, becoming plain, smooth fur, while the unshaven mustache on his lip moved out, becoming long, twitching whiskers on his cheeks. His ears elongated, his eyes turned to slits - And it was done.

The homophobic former human looked down at himself in horror. He raised his hands to type, to beg to be changed back, only to find feline paws, with each clawtip painted a different color of the rainbow. Tearing his eyes away, he looked at the screen, and regretted it instantly. The chat had updated - Some faggot had flooded it with gay porn! A tight feeling rose in his throat, and he began pounding away at the keys. It wasn't until he clicked post that he realized what he'd typed.

"Moar pls."

Air escaped his throat as a hiss, eyes fixated on the images on screen. Deer fucking bears, lions knuckle-deep in foxes asses - He didn't want to look, but at the same time, he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. His hands drifted down, slowly, and he unzipped his leather cockpouch. All eight inches of his feline dick were already hard, and he began stroking it without a thought.

Intellectually, he knew it was wrong, that it went against everything he'd ever stood for, but deep down, it felt... Right. More right than anything he'd ever done, whether it be posting politically incorrect memes, or playing both sides in political arguments and calling both sides cucks. He simply stroked his cock, the soft pads of his paws running over the bumpy ridges of his glans, a low purr rising from his throat.

What little resistance still existed within Mark was fading fast, allowing new, stronger desires to take hold. Thoughts of homophobia dissipated, replaced with a desire for peace, for fitness, and for love. And sex, he couldn't forget about sex! His paw work was clumsy, unused to his new digits, but as he got more used to them, he quickly began reaching climax. Before he could, keeping one hand on his dick, he grabbed the webcam. It had served him well for streaming games, even when he forgot to turn it off before masturbating. This time, however, he wanted to be seen, wanted to be felt and known by the world.

Mark let out a roar, loud and sharp as he climaxed, hot seed spurting out of his feline dick and splashing all across his furry torso. The webcam recorded everything, instantly broadcasting to thousands of viewers around the world. The responses immediately piled in, the chat slowing to a crawl to cope with the sheer volume.

"Im 12 and what is this"

"Nice CG!"

"What a fucking homo!"

The leather daddy leopard smiled, clicking reply to the last message.

"No, you are!"

He smiled, leaning back to enjoy the afterglow. Licking his lips, he watched as a panicked, poorly spelled response came in as the unseen commenter began to change. It would be good to have friends.